


Noir Nights

by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Medical, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pharmacist!Yuuri, Raising the Dead, Undead!Viktor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-10 03:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitsugi_Zirkus/pseuds/RennieOnIceCream
Summary: When disease polluted the streets and surviving became a luxury for the rich, it was thought to be the end of humanity.When renowned Russian researcher and pharmacist Viktor Nikiforov died from such disease, it was thought to be the end of medicine.But Katsuki Yuuri secretly proved them all wrong -- by getting his hands a little dirty and bringing Viktor back from the dead.





	1. 1st Grave

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyy, and this is another fic I wrote for a thing. This was mainly inspired by Frankenstein but honestly this fic bears very little resemblance to the original story. I'm less sure where this plot will go because I mostly wrote it for the aesthetic of undead Viktor and his cute little mad scientist Yuuri. Idk so the other chapters will probs just build that aesthetic. We'll see LOL 
> 
> Also medicine is Complicated, please don't expect any kind of accuracy here; Yuuri knows both pharmaceutical and surgical skills bc he's That Amazing o)-)
> 
> And with that, we're off!

At a quarter to two in the morning, Nishigori Yuuko finally turned the lights off to her lab and started to leave Fukunaga Pharmaceuticals. Her eyes felt heavy and dry, but that was normal; she’d been pushing long hours, and the higher ups didn’t seem keen on lightening up anytime soon. Even though Yuuko and the other pharmacists were the ones dishing out medicine and marking prescriptions all day, the bosses weren’t empathetic at all about their workers.

And why would they? When had the ones on top ever cared about the ones below them? Yuuko knew the truth to this well; it was the only reason she hadn’t quit her job even though she had barely seen her three girls for longer than ten minutes for the past week.

But if Yuuko did her job right, then she was granted access to the medication and remedies locked tightly up inside the labs. For the sake of her family, she had to hold onto this job. Otherwise, if one of them so much as caught a cold, they’d be ill-prepared.

 

**“I T ’ S  N O T  A  H A R D  T A S K!**

 

**R E M E M B E R  Y O U R  M A S K!”**

 

Before she got outside, Yuuko was forced to stare at the same poster stuck to the inner doors every day. She pulled out her face mask -- decorated with colorful snowflakes -- from her pocket and slipped it on, taking care to tug the cloth up to cover her nose. It took that and heading into a tightly sealed chamber that made sure the air was clean before the outer doors finally slid open and allowed her outside.

It had been ages since Yuuko last got to take in a deep breath outside, but with the stench of the sick and dying clinging to the air, she and the Japanese people literally couldn’t afford to wander out without their masks. Being sick was too costly; one might as well resign themselves to their casket right then.

Her heels clacked on the cement, sounding too loud in the dark empty streets as she made her way to her car. Most of her peers had left earlier, but she knew some stayed behind, probably sleeping on the stiff sofas inside the pharmacy’s lounge. Yuuko could’ve done the same, but… She wanted to see her husband and her daughters, even if just for a moment.

When she entered the garage, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, causing her to shiver. She halted and turned around, suddenly alert.

There was nothing behind her. Her eyes scanned through the darkness, her vision struggling to adjust, but nothing else stirred.

 _I have to stop working so late,_ she thought, slowly turning back to her car. It had to be her imagination. She hoped it was. The last thing she needed was to deal with a mugger, or a sick person. While the pharmacy was well secured -- chain-link fences covered in barbed wire, cameras everywhere, law-enforcing security androids patrolling the perimeter -- sometimes a desperate citizen or a rebel would find their way in and try to break into the labs.

Yuuko approached her car -- still a modest model despite whatever money the government tried to toss her way to placate her -- and rounded to the driver’s side. A shadow lurked beside the door and she screamed.

The shadow shot out, waving its hands.

“Don’t scream!” it whispered, continuing to hold its hands up for mercy. Slowly, the shadow shifted forward. “It’s me, Yuu-chan, it’s me!”

Yuuko clutched at her lab coat, trying to calm the frantic beat of her heart. Her vision adjusted, taking in the shadow’s face in the dim light. To her shock and utter relief, she recognized the wide, skittish brown eyes above a familiar face mask decorated with paw prints. Yuuko thought she’d collapse on the ground.

“ _Katsuki Yuuri_ , you almost gave me a heart attack!” She finally released the breath she’d been holding and pulled her childhood friend into her arms. “I’m so glad it’s _you_ , but…” She held him at arms-length, frowning. “What are you doing sneaking around? What are you doing _here_? I thought… I thought you quit.”

Yuuri finally relaxed a little, and he carefully removed Yuuko’s hands to squeeze them. “I _did_ quit. After Vicchan and my dad… But, well, they never revoked the pharmacy’s code from my chip.” Yuuri flashed out his wrist, where a rectangular shape protruded slightly under his skin; it was identical to the protrusion embedded in Yuuko’s own wrist.

Yuuko shook her head in disbelief, then quickly ushered him to the car. “Let’s talk in here, we have no idea what they’ll do if they find you. They might think you’re infiltrating as a spy or something.”

“You mean that’s not why you stayed on as a pharmacist, Yuu-chan?”

Yuuko couldn’t help but huff in amusement at Yuuri’s knowing smile. It was nice to know that even after not seeing him for almost months, he hadn’t lost his snark. Once they were piled into the car, she asked, “Is it fine if we head out? Or did you need something? Because I can go back inside if it’s medicine you need.”

At that, Yuuri shook his head. “No, it’s not that.” He hung his head a bit. “I have everything I need.”

Yuuko delayed her curiosity and started the car. She went through the standard procedure of having her chip scanned before the gates opened up and they were driving through the late night streets of Japan. At first, the rise in disease hadn’t dissuaded the nightlife, but after being outside for more than an hour had people ill, many of the once-lively streets had become quieter, although plenty of people still loitered around, wearing masks of every color and pattern. A few of them looked up when her car drove by, the masks painted with neon-glowing skeleton jaws.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” she started. _Not since you quit after your father’s funeral_. It was a story that was becoming all-too-common these days -- family members growing sick, but in an age where resources were dwindling only the rich could afford medical care, the rest could only die. No manner of protests swayed the government, who only seemed to wait for the common people to grow weak and die out; the opposition would naturally fade away.

But Yuuri had been a pharmacist, just like her. He was the only one in his family, and worked hard to have access to medical resources. But when his father grew sick with an unknown disease -- an all-too-common occurrence these days -- Yuuri grew frantic and tried hard to collaborate with doctors to figure out what remedy he could give him. The higher-ups hadn’t been enthusiastic about Yuuri’s waste in supplies, and he was forbidden to continue the research.

Everything he needed had been in reach had he just been given some help, time, and mercy. But he’d been given none of that. Katsuki Toshiya died within three short months. Yuuri quit the pharmacy a week after that, and Yuuko hadn’t seen him since. The messages she sent went without answer.

“How’ve you been?” she asked. “What’ve you been doing?” She reached one hand from the steering wheel to squeeze Yuuri’s fingers.

“Well, at first, I didn’t do anything at all. I kind of...shut down,” Yuuri quietly admitted, his voice muffled by the mask. “Mom and Mari were grieving too, and the inn was shut down for a week or so. They’re doing fine now, though. Mom lights incense every morning and stays up talking to Dad’s portrait at night. It took some time, but I eventually got back on my feet too. And I started picking up on my research again.”

“Research for...your father’s illness?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, not that. There’s something else I had been doing on my own. A bit of a side project. But, well, I guess it evolved to something more like an obsession these past few months.”

Yuuko’s brows knit together. “What’ve you been researching?”

“It’s…” Yuuri gave a disbelieving laugh. “You know, I should just show you. Can I give you directions to my secret base?”

“You have a secret base?” Yuuko said with a small laugh.

“I have to. Otherwise, people might call me crazy. Or worse, the government might kill me.”

An uncharacteristic amount of solemn seriousness settled in the air around Yuuri. Even as Yuuko’s head buzzed with questions and confusion, she followed along with Yuuri’s directions.

Before long, they ended up at a small U-shaped shopping center a few blocks away from the Katsuki family inn. The tiny shops were dark and abandoned, trash littering the cement. Shadows seemed to shudder in the alleyways, but Yuuko tried to ignore them and followed Yuuri to one of the shops. It was the only one with blinds over the dusty windows and door, preventing anyone from peeking inside.

“I got to do some traveling thanks to my research, went all the way to Russia,” Yuuri began, undoing the series of locks on the door and ushering Yuuko inside. “You know, it’s as bad as they say -- the rich killing off the poor, people sick and dying, full hospitals, medical debt as high as skyscrapers… It’s everywhere, not just Japan and America. It makes the cemeteries packed past capacity, to the point that bodies are buried on top of bodies.”

“That’s awful,” Yuuko whispered, anguish clutching her heart. It pained her as a healer to live in this world, where even just surviving was a luxury. It pained her that she couldn’t somehow save them all.

After securing the locks, Yuuri flicked on the lights, bringing clinical fluorescent illuminance to the walls and tiled floor. The first room was mostly empty except for an old desk, a mini-fridge, and a recently used futon in the corner. Yuuko assumed that meant Yuuri had a tendency to spend nights in this secret base of his.

On the desk were disorganized documents and charts. Yuuko tried to get a closer look at them to get an idea of Yuuri’s research, but was interrupted by a loud clang from a room down the hall. She instinctively went to Yuuri and stood protectively in front of him.

But Yuuri reached out and patted her arm reassuringly. “The good point about that is I didn’t have to dig very deep for him.”

“Him…?”

Another clang, this time followed by a curious call of Yuuri’s name.

“I’m back,” Yuuri called in English, pulling down his mask.

Yuuko continued to stare suspiciously at the room, a shadow flooding the floor before a foot stepped out and a face peered at her.

A young man stood there completely naked, and for a moment, Yuuko thought he was diseased -- his skin was a sickly greenish hue, with signs of what looked like bruising. Lining over his limbs and body were stitches -- Yuuko immediately recognized the large Y-shaped one over his torso.

Pale blue eyes went from Yuuko to Yuuri, sizing up the situation. “Yuuri…,” the man said again, voice coming out of cracked lips.

Yuuko realized three things then:

1) This man was not, in fact, diseased. Maybe he once was, but that brought her to the next point.

2) He was, actually, decaying. He was dead. Dead but oh-so-clearly _alive_.

3) Her dear childhood friend had somehow dug up the grave of legendary Russian pharmacist Viktor Nikiforov, and had brought him back to life.


	2. 2nd Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long since I've had the chance to sit down and write, so this October I want to try and write something every day. It'll be nothing big, but if I can manage to keep it up, I'd feel good. So I decided to start with this story since it's October and that means Spookiness. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Yuuri was used to the burning, sharp smell of chemicals. Sterile, clinical, the stench of rubber gloves and stale soap clung to his skin long after he’d hang up his lab coat for the day.

Once Japan became plagued by the onslaught of sickness, of death, the air itself became contaminated and Yuuri began to acquaint himself with a new scent, one a healer (or rather any human) never wanted to inhale -- the foul odor of  _ death _ . 

Even though Yuuri was safely inside sterile rooms, was barricaded inside the pharmacy, he felt like he couldn’t escape the veils of death clinging to his clothes and skin like spiderwebs. Even with his mask on, Yuuri felt like he could taste diseased flesh on his tongue. The fact that hundreds of sick bodies were piling up on the streets, overflowing graves and being burned in droves made his stomach lurch. It was like being trapped in the times of the Black Plague. 

This was an age in which more than ever, everyone was relying on the miracle of medicine. Yuuri was one of those few that had the resources and knowledge to provide for the sick in his country. For years, he buried himself in books, learning all he could about all manner of medicine -- pharmaceuticals, surgery…

He had to be amazing. Revolutionary. A god of healing. Just like the Russian legend, Viktor Nikiforov.

_ Viktor _ . Yuuri spent endless nights watching his lectures online and losing himself in the doctor’s medical reports. The man was as brilliant as he was handsome, and his face and articles had donned the covers of scientific journals since Yuuri just started as a med student, despite the fact that Viktor was a mere four years his senior. But that was just how amazing he was, always bringing a new unprecedented surprise to the world of science and healing, and always believing that healthcare should be an accessible right for all humans to have. Viktor Nikiforov was one of the shining lights that gave common people hope in this bleak, dying world.

And yet, as brilliant as he was, it seemed even his genius was no match for his own body falling prey to an unknown mutated disease. His obsessive work to find a cure only seemed to accelerate the process.

Before anyone could stop it, Viktor Nikiforov was dead, and Yuuri felt like he carried that rotten chasm in the recesses of his ribcage ever since.

* * *

Yuuri stopped the car a block down from the cemetery, and the headlights gave out, drenching him in the haunted silence of St. Petersburg’s once lively streets. The darkness of the night threatened to swallow him whole, but Yuuri pushed on with the jack rabbiting of his heart, pulling his mask over his nose and grabbing his shovel and cadaver pouch before stepping out of the car. 

It was eerie how oppressive the quiet of the world’s cities were these days. Neon signs and streetlamps flickered, their shine glittering on the pavement, wet from the afternoon’s downpour. If it weren’t for his mask, Yuuri was sure that he’d be taking in the air soured with the mixed odor of rainfall soaking into dead bodies. 

As Yuuri stepped into the cemetery, he noticed the dark piles, the soggy earth, the half-buried holes. Families were attempted to be buried with families until there was no room left, nowhere else to go but in piles, not even having the luxury or time to be buried in coffins. Here and there between mounds of mud, Yuuri could occasionally make out a diseased limb. He took a deep, shaky breath to settle the cold terror in his bones.

But there was no turning back now. 

Even without half-buried bodies or tombstones to point the way, Yuuri could tell right away where Viktor was buried. 

It was like a garden had been uprooted and left in the middle of this desolate land of the dead. Flowers were strawn on top of a particular grave, smothering it in red roses, white chrysanthemums, torn baby’s breath and countless other flowers in varying degress of plain and gaudy that Yuuri couldn’t name. The people of Russia paid their respects to Viktor’s grave at every daylight hour like worshippers presenting offerings to a deity’s temple. Perhaps they prayed that even in death, Viktor could somehow save them; perhaps they simply mourned losing their last hope at living. With Viktor gone, who would fight for their lives? Who would provide them with cures to the ever-growing number of sicknesses plaguing their families? 

Yuuri himself had come by earlier that day, a bouquet of red peonies bleeding in his arms. He’d carefully laid them on top of the other flowers. The scent of the blooms penetrated through his mask even now, earthy and yet somehow  _ rotten _ .

Speaking of rotten… Yuuri had to move fast; in another day or two, his precious subject could be completely ruined. That couldn’t happen; not when the world’s fate rested upon it.

Not when Yuuri’s very sanity was at stake. 

Carefully, one by one, Yuuri put aside the bouquets of flowers, peeling back their softness and vibrancy like he was prying apart flayed skin. Then, with a determined breath, he picked up his shovel and struck the dirt, still freshly buried. 

Overhead, the night sky rumbled. The rain would be returning soon. 

Yuuri’s hands shook around the shovel’s handle. 

_ Can’t turn back now _ , he reminded himself. 

Gradually, the shovel did its work, nothing but the shifting mud and distant thunder filling the air as the earth opened up. Soon enough, the work was complete, and Yuuri was panting in his mask above the grave. 

A sickening scent burned his nose, one Yuuri hadn’t known so closely before -- something sick and horrible and yet tinged with sweetness, so slight that he might as well have been imagining it. Perhaps it was the sweetness of once-life still clinging to the corpse below him. It was as revolting as it was captivating.

Yuuri sank down into the grave, smiling wide at Viktor’s filthy body slumbering before him. He couldn’t believe it -- Viktor Nikiforov, in the (diseased, decaying,  _ dead _ ) flesh.

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching down to squeeze Viktor’s stiff, cold hand with his own gloved one. “I’ll take care of you, Viktor. You don’t know me, but I’ve been watching you and learning from you and… Well, it’s okay now. 

“Because we’re going to fix all this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter.... I really want to write about Yuuri digging up Viktor's grave... Hhhhhh....
> 
> Talk to me on Twitter, @RenOnIceCream!


End file.
